


Tears and Blood

by LittleNightmare



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Depression, Oneshot, Sad, Self-Harm, really sad srsly don't read this if you have problems like me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleNightmare/pseuds/LittleNightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada is ignored at yet another meeting and.....things get dark....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears and Blood

Matthew shut the door of his hotel room and collapsed to the ground, leaning against the door for support. He was looking blankly at the ceiling, letting the dull pain fill him and start nipping at his heart. No one even noticed his presence at today's meeting and Matthew had had enough. He tried to get their attention by raising his voice, but the sounds of old chairs was louder. Countries were leaving quickly because of France's "jokes" and didn't really want to stay near the pervert at night in a big building with sound-proof walls. Even his bear had left him at that point.

Canada slowly stood up and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl of cookies and headed to his bedroom to cry his heart out and later fill it with delicious snacks stuffed with maple syrup. The Canadian placed the bowl on his desk and fell into the chair nearby. After searching through cups of pencils he finally found what he was looking for - his only friend, the only one that would ease his pain, the only one he felt he could tell all secrets. The only one that would understand and listen - his little razor. He also pulled out a bottle of disinfectant, plasters and bandages. This night was rough.

Carefuly peeling back the sleeve of his hoodie, Matthew sadly admired the pale skin of his forearm, that would soon be covered in angry red scars and cuts, that would sting for quite a while. He'd be reminded of them everytime he would put on a shirt or move the fabric there. Too bad his skin was so sensitive.

First cut.  
A single tear rolled down from his eye, across his cheek.  
Second cut.  
No one loves me.  
Third.  
No one needs me.  
Fourth one.  
I am not worth anything.  
Fifteenth.  
I wish I were dead.  
Twenty-second.  
I don't want to go on anymore.  
Thirty-first.  
Please save me.

By the end, there were no more tears to be shed. Slowly, as if was afraid, Matthew grabbed a cookie and took a bite. Hell, he was terribly hungry, but he could no longer feel the pain or the taste. After several hours of playing with his food, Canada finally rose and made his way to the bathroom.

Later that night, when he was about to go to sleep, he decided to check on his babies, as he refered to his scars. For long minutes, he was only able to dumbly look at his arm, almost as if he could not comprehend that this was indeed his limb. 

He shrugged. Nothing can be done about it now.

Matthew Williams never regretted what he did at those nights. Never. Not even when he was confronted with the shocked faces and tears of other nations, when they noticed him for the very first time after he badly cut himself during a meeting.


End file.
